I woke up the next morning with a strange calm feeling within me. It was a wretched wet morning and I just lay there in bed staring at the ceiling.
My thoughts were blank and I probably would have remained there with my eyes fixed to the ceiling had my phone not rang. The ringtone, Daniel Bedingfield’s, “if you’re not the one” told me it was Ekua calling…
I held the handset in my hand staring at her picture which illuminated the screen anytime she called. I wanted to pick up but didn’t. She called four more times and after the final ring I dialled back…
It was awkward for a second after I had said hello and she had said it back; we both acted like everything was ok. I asked her how her night had been, what she was having for breakfast and I even managed a laugh somewhere in all that.
She told me she hadn’t been able to sleep, and honestly I had barely slept myself. After another awkward pause and silence I bit the bullet and told her I was sorry for not picking up her calls the night before and explained it was only because I had nothing to say.
She told me she understood how I must have felt and must still be feeling, but begged that I allowed her to explain…
We talked for an hour after that, after which I learnt two things; her uncertainty about our situation had gotten the better of her, and even though she still wasn’t sure of herself, she regretted saying those things…
“I wish I could take it back, tell me what to do to make it right”…
I didn’t know how she could make it right, I just wished she had never said those words because now…
“Hmmm”, I sighed heavily and threw myself back unto the bed…This was all just one big mess.
A loud banging on the window outside woke me up. Groggily, I turned over and picked my phone up, it was past twelve; that must be Frank. The burglar proof rattled again, then a voice shouted through the open louvre blades,
“My guy, come open me”, it was Frank.
I dragged myself from the bed through the hall of the apartment to the main door leading outside and opened up the padlock…
“Chale, I dey hung oo…you no cook?”
Frank lived on the university campus a couple of kilometres away. He was a masters’ student in Marketing and was most often than not hard up on cash. So it was a good thing for him I lived close by, but today like most other days, I was in no mood to cook. I hardly cooked.
He came in and opened up the rice cooker and reached for the bag of rice in the corner, “I dey hung bad”!
He pulled out his phone from his pocket and beckoned me over. Flipping through his WhatsApp images he drew up a picture of a pretty looking girl,
“Chale, I get girl for you


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